Forever My Son
by Moonsetta
Summary: That was the true definition of their civilian relationship; awkward open moments that a sociologist could make a career out of and win a few life-time awards for analyzing. Companion piece to 'Not My Father' Character Death. Bonus: Fluffy Christmas story at the end!


Forever My Son

* * *

Some form of aggravation shocked the muscles in his arms as the Dark Knight drifted out of the cemetery, like some ghost to be forever unrested. All he knew is that once he was back inside the Batmobile, he could barely keep a decent grip on the wheel.

Dustin Malos:

A once near-mob boss that had been cold in his grave for three years.

How had he missed it? HOW?

A bright flash of light in the distance alerted him to the storm that would hit Gotham City within the hour. The raid his team had finished earlier that night on the Ritzi gang had recovered much more data than he had first predicted. There was more than enough evidence to lock them all away for a good twenty years.

Under the black cowl, Bruce Wayne forced himself to think about the dinner party he would attend tomorrow. And he only thought of that, until the familiar darkness of the Batcave swallowed the Batmobile into its dark depths.

* * *

He honestly wasn't surprised when he found Dick wide awake upon his return. Still, the younger man should have gone to sleep by the time he got back. What DID surprise him though was that his eldest protégé was scanning over some hidden papers encased by a manila folder in his hands. Still feeling the scowl on his face, Batman reached up and pulled his cowl back.

The Batman-scowl was still present when Bruce Wayne was present.

"Yikes, bad mission?" came the near ringing voice of Dick Grayson as Bruce approached him.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" the elder asked as he neared the acrobat.

The younger man smirked, "Nah, when you left, Tim and I watched a movie and he went to bed but I was still restless so I came down to look into a case or two."

"Personal or for the Titans?" Bruce asked, honestly curious.

Dick normally didn't go out of his way to study if it was unnecessary. What kind of case would catch that much of his attention?

"The Lantern Corps actually."

WHAT! Internally, Bruce panicked: What does the Lantern Corps want with you! Which one of them came to you? What did they say? And why do they want you!

Thankfully, Batman stepped up to take over in his mind. He was still pretty pissed off though.

Bruce stopped his forward advancement and his eyes narrowed, "Explain."

Dick closed the folder he had been browsing through and sat it down on a nearby clean countertop next to him while his face grew thoughtful, "Well, I was with the Outsiders in Malaysia at the time, we were investigating a strange dark energy surge by what the locals deemed the 'Demon-Wood' in that area. What we found though was a fight between pretty much every color lantern there was."

Bruce had to force himself from twitching while he spoke, "And you failed to tell me about this why?"

Dick blinked his light blue eyes, clearly innocent, "I reported it to the League, and I assumed Superman told you at the meeting that night."

Clark was dead! He would be dead before midnight! Just then though, he noticed on the screen of the Batcomputer that it was 3:30am the next morning. The Justice League had a meeting at noon tomorrow though…he'd have to find that powder.

"Remind me to put kryptonite dust into his coffee tomorrow morning at our next meeting."

Dick rolled his eyes good humoredly with a charming smile, "Noted."

Bruce took a calming breath and forced himself to, not relax exactly, but make it where his next words wouldn't be screamed or grumbled. With that he, once again, began his trek to his protégé's side.

"Any other cases?"

Dick reached for another folder on a stack behind him that Bruce counted about a dozen of, "Oh plenty; though most of these solve themselves. I'm sure you know about New York's Jima Wana case."

Of course, the radical group from LA that decided to butcher the Japanese language, then make it their own before promptly taking control of the local gangs in Squoor City, Nevada.

Bruce nodded and walked over to the computer to take his normal seat beside Dick, "So you'll be in Chinatown on Saturday?"

That was where the gang was going to start a second division, although the group was still fairly new to national crime business.

The younger man chuckled, "Sunday. Do you honestly think I'd fall for that faux report published by the Police? Those idiots will be showing up to an empty warehouse on Saturday."

"Hmm, good job."

Chinatown and Squoor City, Nevada.

Wait a minute, what was Nightwing or Dick Grayson doing in Nevada? Chinatown of course but…never mind. He didn't want to know.

Looking up at the younger hero, Nightwing smiled with that…look. Bruce had never known what it was, but he was the only one that got it. He would have estimated it to be some kind of demonetizing look that alienated whoever was being stared at. This was Dick Grayson though; he'd been trying to understand the guy since he was just an eight-year-old boy.

"Now," Dick said, tossing the folder he had just picked up back onto the manila tower, "I can ask. Why'd you rush out of here when Tim finished decoding that personnel profile?"

"He told you?" Bruce gritted his teeth, he had told Tim to keep his mouth shut.

"Well technically, he told me that you told him not to tell me so I didn't ask," Dick said, kind of talking with his hands like Italians did.

It was as bad as the puns he made years ago when he was Robin, so Bruce said nothing. No doubt, the younger man would speak again when he only received silence as an answer.

The acrobat shrugged, "I assumed that if it was important I would find out eventually."

Of course he would figure it out sooner or later. Batman didn't train fools.

Bruce opened his mouth to begin, "The profile was-"

"Dustin Malos?" Dick suddenly asked.

The Bat nearly started, but by turning his head slightly and slowly, Bruce's eyes entertained the question on their own.

The younger man's smile fell into a frown, "I was waiting for everything to download and I'd already taken out the guards so I kind of took a look at the data."

Shrugging and holding in a sigh, Bruce muttered.

"I should've known," he said with a shake of his head.

"So…how was your search for him?"

"…"

"You found his grave marker in the Soutch–Rais Cemetery?"

Bruce's head snapped up and to the side, "You knew?"

The younger hero smirked, "I kind of ran into the name a few years ago."

WHAT!

"And you didn't-"

Dick interrupted him, "Tell you because it was a personal case for me."

Bruce gritted his teeth and turned away from his eldest son.

"Hey, don't be so grumpy old man."

"Why do you call me that?"

He was NOT old!

"Eh…it's the best title got for you right now, besides your name," the younger said with a shrug and one of those smiling looks again.

"Title?" Bruce asked slowly.

Dick chuckled, got to his feet, stretched and yawned before speaking, "I'll tell you some day."

Once again, Dick Grayson left Bruce Wayne befuddled.

One of the few mysteries neither Bruce nor Batman would EVER solve.

* * *

There is no easy answer for death. Sometimes, there isn't actually ANY answer or rationalization you can grasp on to. Bruce was not prepared for this.

Intergalactic war raged on the planet: Prepared

Crippling injury that forces temporary/permanent retirement: Prepared

Multitude of Natural disasters all hutting at once: Prepared

Mass epidemic of an exotic disease: Prepared

Zapped to a different dimension via a space-time gate: Prepared

Sudden, unexpected death of a father figure: …

There is NO preparation for such. Though there should be.

There should be an easy answer this time…but there isn't. Not even for the Dark Knight.

The similar signs, despite his shock- he saw them all, and found himself wandering Gotham. Though this time, it was the streets he scoured, not his normal rooftops. His suit was still in the Cave and honestly-he wanted to leave Batman in the Batcave tonight. So with thoughts having no way to go, his feet did the wandering while his mind tried and barely succeeded in standing still. The high column celebrities of society would have sprung away at the sight of Bruce Wayne so down in the dumps. Those fancy pants beings that were only perceptive of time when there was a party involved.

No man is immortal.

Though most of the time, fate didn't seem to agree with that.

Jason Todd. Superman. Green Lantern. Barry Allen.

Then again, some of the time, nature laid its course.

Jean-Paul Valley. Ted Kord. Don Hall. Roger Hayden. Lian Harper.

The broken concrete walkways of the city felt like tar each time he took a single step. He didn't want to think. He COULDN'T think. How could he have NOT seen the warning signs on the man who raised him? He failed to notice ANYTHING. Failed. It had been so obvious-but he had been blind. The others would be looking for him, but probably as Batman.

The coffee shop had not been in his plans; it hadn't even stood out at first. Every tar-laden step on the concrete slowed his normal advance every minute, but he didn't stop until he ran into something. His right foot stopped being pushed forward and a sharp clank followed. His head snapped up and the man found himself staring at a life sized mannequin. Having been stopped by the obstacle, Bruce finally let his eyes scan the area. It was a small, mundane coffee shop.

Fate be fate, he DID remember the place.

It had been so long ago though…about 15 years.

OK, superior memory: 14 years, eight months, one week and three days.

Knowing that didn't make him feel any different though…Alfred…

NO! He would not think!

Coffee…he could use a cup of coffee.

Minimally caffeinated and NOT thinking, that's how Dick Grayson found him.

Bruce knew of a lot of small time stores that had that annoying little bell above the doorways. It announced the entrance and departure of every customer. Not many stores had it any more. That thought…made him frown…until he heard the first familiar footstep on the tiled floor.

His body tensed without his permission. He felt too much like Bruce Wayne at the moment, just Bruce Wayne, without Batman. That was a true problem. He already knew that Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson practically had NO relationship outside of their vigilante lives. What about the others? Tim, Barbara, Helena…hell, what had the relationship with Alfred been?

"How in the world did you find me?"

He saw Dick bite his lip, probably to keep from blowing up at him, before he began to speak softly as he walked over to the small two-seat table, "Call it dumb luck."

Of course, it wouldn't have been anything else!

When Dick finally sat down, the shop's blonde-haired beauty waitress was beside the table in a flash, "Hi, welcome to Satchel's would you like to sample our new Snapple Cappuccino?"

Snapple Cappuccino?

Bruce didn't ask, didn't WANT to ask. The way the woman's large blue eyes sparkled though when she looked at Dick…why did everyone get obsessed with him?

Breaking the silence, Dick smirked and spoke, "Sure, Amelia. It sounds refreshing."

Wait, how did Dick know the woman's name? Were they dating? What was her name again? Why hadn't Dick told him?

Overall, the boy had to flirt NOW?

When the woman had near skipped back into the kitchen like she had just been given a pot of gold, Bruce made sure he was glaring at his companion.

"What?" Dick asked.

"Stop flirting."

"I was not flirting!"

Bruce's mouth almost twitched at the high pitched voice Dick was using, it was the usual premeditation to the lines of friendly banter that would normally follow. It was only when he bowed his head, to hide the action if it immerged despite his will, that he remembered the cup of coffee his hands were wrapped around.

"You should be back at the Manor with Tim," Bruce forced himself to grumble the words.

Dick scoffed, "I'm sure Stephanie can help him more than I can and I already called Leslie. Everyone else has gone home."

Yes, Stephanie. The Spoiler. Well, Tim had his own tastes…so, to each his own. But wait-

Bruce raised an eyebrow, "Under whose orders?"

"Mine. Want to challenge it?" the younger man said with a glare that made Bruce Wayne swallow nervously.

Yes, one of those unspoken rules. Batman's gone? Ask Nightwing for answers.

The elder snapped his open mouth shut as the blonde skipped back in with Dick's order, smirking seductively. Dick really should give some serious thought to settling down at some point. Originally Bruce had been so sure about Dick and Barbara. Unfortunately, the girl, now Oracle, was so wrapped up in her misery over her disability that she never believed Dick when he claimed he didn't care about the wheelchair-that he loved the GIRL. Truthfully, Bruce had been glad when the boy had gotten over her and moved on. Barbara reminded Bruce too much of himself.

"Your Cappuccino Mr. Grayson."

That proved it, they knew one another!

"Thank you, Amelia," Dick said with a smile, taking the drink from a bronze stained tray the woman was holding out before the gold curls disappeared back into the kitchen again in yet another a flash.

Bruce ensured he was glaring again.

"Look Bruce, thanking a waitress for a drink is not flirting."

He needed answers!

"How do you know her?"

"I don't!" the younger protested, his hands thrown up in exasperation.

"Amelia?" Bruce asked while he felt his eyebrows rising in demanding curiosity.

Dick scowled, which was kind of frightening, even to his companion, "Bruce, she's wearing a name tag!"

It got quiet.

Just freaking quiet!

The look on Dick's face displayed the disbelief in plain sight even behind the cup that _almost_ reached his lips.

…

…

Dick suddenly sighed, sat down his drink and threw up his hands, "Come on Bruce, you're completely out of it."

"I know."

It was true, he was. There wasn't anything else to say to that though.

The younger man bit his lip and reached for his drink, finally taking a few long sips of the multicolored caffeine. He smiled slightly as he pulled the cup away and sat it back down on the table before his blue eyes flew up and met his mentor's directly for the first time that night.

"Come on Old Man. Alfred probably didn't even know himself."

There was that 'title' again.

"Alfred?"

Silence.

"Well OK, I know that's a bit of a stretch but-it's happened Bruce. Don't treat his death like you did Jason's."

Damn! It was a low blow. A low blow he probably deserved but still.

"How didn't I notice?" Bruce asked, his brooding mood definitely the one forward in this conversation.

"Alfred is the world's best actor-what did you expect?"

That 'The World's Greatest Detective' could have still noticed!

"Still, to hide everything without anyone noticing...he must have known."

"Maybe he did, maybe he just didn't know when. Leslie can hopefully give us the full diagnostic later."

Oh, Leslie! Alfred and Leslie had always been there. The two were close if she was…

"Was calling Leslie such a good idea?" Bruce said around a silent gulp.

Dick's voice dropped to a whisper, "I would have called 911 as usual but then I'd have to explain to the emergency squad why The Boy Wonder was curled up in our hallway crying his eyes out."

Bruce gulped, "Tim."

Tim was only 14! He shouldn't be dealing with ANY of this!

"He's fine. Like I said, Stephanie's with him."

Stephanie. Yes, Stephanie WOULD help him.

Bruce couldn't bring himself to speak so…Once again, silence blanketed the two of them.

"Bruce?"

He ignored the first call.

"Bruce!"

The elder looked up but he was glancing at a memory beyond the current moment. An alleyway-and no further description was needed.

Bruce physically felt the hand sharply pushing on his shoulder, but mentally…

"Snap out of it!"

"…"

"Bruce!"

"…"

"Old Man!"

"…"

"Dad!"

THAT, definitely shocked him back into reality. He could count on one hand how many times Dick had used any version of a parental label for him in the 15 years he had known him. And only twice before had it been 'dad' for the only other time it had been 'father' and it had been an argument so he wondered if he could actually count it. His following actions though, seemed to have a will of their own.

Bruce's head did snap up, "Did you-"

"Yes, and now that you've snapped out of it, will you please STAY out of it?"

The elder said nothing in response. What was there to say? He was partially in the past with two bloody bodies…still waiting for an answer overdue by 25 years.

Dick groaned, "You're impossible."

And for a minute Bruce wonders if years 12 through 22 had done anything for Dick. The struggling court cases, the numerous times someone tried to pull the young boy from the Manor and his care, the dangers, the risks, the times each of them had seen the other at their weakest…

Had it made Dick happy? Did his memory still haunt him?

"Tell me Dick, do you still mourn your parents?"

Unfortunately, the younger hero had chosen to take a drink at that moment so Dick coughed out his own inquiry, "What kind of a question is that?"

He was proud of Nightwing and Dick Grayson. He did have one hell of a resume in both the superhero and civilian worlds too.

"An honest one and I hope I get an honest answer."

Dick tried to look like he answered immediately, but the mental struggle was clear enough on his face for the moment it was there. It was true; they could read each other as almost as easily as they could breathe and it was the one reason the two were such a powerful team. Of course, it was also why Batman's original protégé was dangerous. He had seen Bruce at his weakest, he knew his weaknesses.

Quickly composing his answer, Dick spoke sharply, "Of course I do, but I don't cry over it anymore. I've had you, Alfred, Jason, Tim, Clark, etc…I don't feel like going through everyone…why are you asking?"

True. Such a list would be…tiresome to write out or even speak.

"No reason," Bruce said quietly.

The irritation was clear on the younger's face that the conversation was NOT going his way.

"You need to come back to the Manor," Dick finally said before dropping his voice again, "ALL of us need to get our alibis strait for when they start asking questions."

He had to avoid it, at least for another few minutes. He still felt blood in between his fingers…

"Do you know what that was Dick?"

"Leukemia. We've seen it enough. That's why I figured you were here, David Satchel died of the same thing."

Bruce closed his eyes and spoke softly, "One of our few successful cases where a criminal gave up the life."

Reformed criminals. Not many of them actually came through with the declaration but there had been quite a fair amount, back in Dick's time as Robin.

The distant clank of a high heel on a large tin object and fading footsteps, told the two that the woman was walking out back, probably to take out the garbage.

Now, he had to know.

"Why did you call me-"

Dick interrupted, "It worked to snap you out of it. Besides, aren't you?"

I DON'T KNOW! I'VE NEVER KNOWN! I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR THAT ANSWER FOR YEARS!

Unlike his mind, Bruce kept his voice steady, "I never know Dick. You tell me."

Their blue eyes met directly for a second time that evening, and Bruce could see that his companion's entire body was tensed up. For a second, he believed that he recognized the shape of his own costume over his protégé before he blinked his eyes, denied it and then reopened them to stare right back at the blue eyes before Dick breathed deeply and the muscles in his shoulders tightened even more.

"Bruce, I'm all for heart to heart talks but I know you aren't."

Yes, that was true, but Batman had been discarded in the cave for tonight. This was a rare moment between Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson. As Bruce had previously thought-the two of them practically had NO relationship outside their lives of masks and capes. Well, OK-Nightwing didn't wear a cape but still…

The younger man scoffed, "I don't even know why you're asking when it's so plainly obvious to apparently everyone."

What was obvious?

"If it's obvious, tell me," Bruce demanded.

"Tell you what? That's it's obvious you're my father? You tell me, did I dream up the adoption?"

No, though Bruce had had to look back at the adoption papers ever so often to remember that it had been a reality and not a dream. Gotham DID have a habit of taking what he loved. The elder listened for a moment; the woman was talking to someone outside. No voice was answering. It was a cell phone conversation obviously.

"No. You didn't."

And neither did I.

Silence settled around them again, Bruce taking a drink of his cold coffee and holding back a distasting flinch.

The billionaire could see Dick get fed up before he even spoke.

"I get it Bruce, I do. You're thinking of what Alfred was to all of us, so you are, in turn, trying to puzzle out what you are to all of us. For some reason you've never felt at peace with my answer."

Exactly!

"I've never felt at peace with my position in your life."

The shock on the younger man's face would've been enough to set even Batman off his balance.

"What position?" Dick asked.

Another drink of cold coffee, "You tell me."

For a moment, Bruce let the vigilante touch his mind again. He saw Dick's fingers twitching on the edge of the table, then Batman was whispering to Bruce mentally that he was about to be hit over the head with the table and Dick wasn't going to hesitate or worry about consequences!

"Fine. You want the truth? Here it is! The ONLY reason I don't refer to you as my father, even though you ARE, is not because of John Grayson or anyone or anything else, it's because you were always much more than just my father."

Bruce's eyes snapped to the wall at his side, but he was still listening. He couldn't stand to look at Dick-not right now. This was another vulnerable moment between them that would STAY between them. That was the true definition of their civilian relationship; awkward open moments that a sociologist could make a career out of and win a few life-time awards for analyzing.

"When my parents were murdered I needed a lot of things and you became everything I needed when I needed it: a kind stranger, a friend, a brother, a teacher, a partner, an ally, a hero and above all else, a father. That's the truth, now you know. So what now?"

…yeah…what now?

"Are you going to keep sitting here, brooding over your cold coffee?"

He let it hit him. The sight of cold, wrinkled skin, closed eyes, still limbs and…

"Alfred."

Bruce wasn't sure who had spoken the name or if he had simply thought it very loudly. He was really gone. No heartbeat, no breath, cold body. Dead for hours in his own bed. Another gravestone to add. Another hole to be dug. Another body to bury. Something else that had been taken from him.

He was trying to focus on the words Dick had spoken though:

Kind stranger, friend, brother, teacher, partner, ally, HERO, above all else-a father.

Bruce felt his whole being snap back into reality when Dick's hand landed on top of his and his son spoke, "When people make up a word for all of that-I'll have something to call you other than just, 'Bruce.'"

The door in the back of the store reopened, the blonde continuing her phone conversation as she reentered the kitchen.

"Come on Old Man, let's go home."

And that was that. The two left the drinks behind and didn't bother to look back at the huffing waitress.

* * *

A/N: Merry Christmas people! A friend of mine on DA requested a fluffy Christmas mini-shot so I thought I would just add it on. It's easier.

Bonus: My Name is Wayne

There was no easy answer to a cold gravestone. Even less than no answer to one buried in the snow of Gotham's normally quick and brutal winter. The recent storm had kept Gotham city at a stalemate at everything. It had been a month, but it didn't seem cold enough as Bruce leaned against a tree devoid of leaves and heavy branches by a new stone standing in the Wayne cemetery.

"I figured I'd find you here."

Too bad, the feeling of blackened bark digging into the back of his skull had felt soooo wonderful. Bruce Wayne turned his head at a flash of light, the after-effect of the JLA transporter fading as a familiar form appeared.

"Don't bother Dick. Clark, Diana and Oliver have already come here and lectured me."

Throwing up his hands in mock surrender, Dick smiled gently as he began his walk over to join…Bruce, the snow crunching beneath his boots, "Calm down Old Man, I'm not here to lecture you, though you probably deserve it."

He couldn't argue with that, especially if even OLIVER QUEEN was dragging himself over to a snowed-in Gotham City to lecture the Dark Knight.

"It's Christmas you know?"

No. He didn't. Alfred normally hung up decorations with Dick and Tim during the holiday.

"Then shouldn't you be with the Titans, the Outsiders, with your friends in Bludhaven?"

Bruce watched Dick breathe deeply before releasing the breath in an extremely long sigh, "Yes, probably. Bludhaven's snowed-in like Gotham, so my fellow officers are celebrating with doughnuts, frozen pizza and gallons of coffee at HQ. The Titans are having their own party, as are the Outsiders."

"I refuse to believe you weren't invited."

"I was invited but…"

"You were worried about me."

Dick blinked a few times before scowling as he spoke, "Yeah, I am. So, you know what? Deal with it!"

Internally, Bruce was smiling. Externally, his lips were too frozen to smile though,not that Batman's shadow would allow him to anyways.

"I was invited to a lot of parties, but I decided hey! I wonder what my Old Man's doing? Bet my entire fortune he's out in the cemetery again!"

"Nice detective work."

Dick snorted, "If that's considered detective work-I'm Britney Spears."

Finally, Bruce sighed and spoke the expected question, "Why are you here?"

"It's Christmas. Traditions normally include dinners, presents, parties and…spending time with family?"

"Have you seen Tim?"

The younger man growled under breath before answering, "With the Titans…alright I'll get to the point. You have to get out of the Manor, off the grounds and back into life. I'm sure Clark wouldn't be opposed to-"

"No."

He was not going out to the Kent family farm!

"I'm not going to any parties either," Bruce said sharply as Dick opened his mouth to speak again.

Another scowl marred Dick's face-one of great annoyance this time and Bruce had to look away and at the ground instead. The scowl seemed too much like Batman's.

"I was going to say. The garage I have in Bludhaven is frozen shut by the winter ice and snow so I'm unable to attend the pizza, doughnut and coffee party with the BHPD while I can't get my bike out. Crime is as frozen as my garage door; I declined all the party invitations I received and I don't plan to disrupt the JLA party more than twice."

"Is this going somewhere?" Bruce barked harshly, feeling the mental creeping cape of Batman re-clothing itself upon his shoulders.

"Yeah," Dick said with that 'look' that Bruce still couldn't identify.

It was that same look that was only ever directed at him from his first protégé. It didn't look demonizing but with Dick Grayson-who knew?

Finally smiling, Dick spoke offhandedly, "I've got some horribly thin, overly salted sliced deli meat at my place that'll be thawed out in about an hour."

"So?"

"Want to go for a walk?"

"Walk where?"

The younger man shrugged, still smiling, "Florida, Alaska, the Gilatone moons, the Amazonian Jungle, the rings of Saturn, the Fortress of Solitude?"

"Superman wouldn't be angry?"

"He's in Smallville with his parents, Kara and all the super-pets. Besides, what he doesn't know won't hurt him."

Bruce DID smirk at that.

"It's gourmet right?"

The unthawing meat…

"It has gourmet in the name."

"Hmm, very well."

Yet he didn't move until Dick grabbed onto his frozen arm that was stiff from the cold and pulled him towards the gates.

It was a spontaneous decision, deciding to leave…certainly out of character for the Dark Knight -yet…a little bit of perfect.

"By the way, my heater's out in my apartment so there are icicles hanging off the windows from inside."

Hmm…now it sounded perfect.

"Thank you…" and Bruce didn't know what to say.

Was it safe to use the unheard but constantly rehearsed 's' word with Dick today? Well, it was Christmas…family but still. Dick Grayson's father was John Grayson, not Bruce Wayne. He had no right to take that title, that role, even if the man was dead. Besides, Thomas Wayne had been dead for years, but Bruce hadn't gone out of his way to see Alfred in the exact same light. Which wasn't truly fair. The billionaire had been eight…who knows how he might have seen his parents in a few years after that time?

There was no easy answer.

A sudden buzzing brought Bruce back to reality and out of his own mind as Dick's hand stopped pulling him along and reached into his coat pocket before withdrawing his cell phone.

"Hello?"

".."

"Oh, yes Amy?"

It was Amy Rohrbach then, Dick's boss at the BHPD.

"Yes, the edit's correct."

Edit? What edit? Bruce scowled Batman-like, what didn't he know? Normally he could understand the subject of any conversation, even only from hearing one side of it. This was too vague.

"Yeah, go ahead. I'll wait."

Dick glanced back at Bruce before smiling at the eyebrows creeping into the older man's bangs.

"I need a haircut," Bruce mentally said to himself as he waited for an answer.

The younger man laughed shortly and lightly before speaking, "Just an edit on my datasheet profile."

"What edit?"

As Dick opened his mouth to answer yet again there was a loud BANG from the other side of the phone call.

"Amy?"

"Don't panic Rookie; Smith just broke the coffee machine…AGAIN!"

In the background there were muffled grumbles and a short, sharp, "I'm OK!"

Dick laughed and Bruce felt the left side of his mouth tip up slightly into a smirk.

"OK, I better get in there before Galton starts challenging everyone to an eggnog drinking contest…AGAIN!"

Again, a shout rose from the background, "Hey! I paid for the window!"

The woman HAD to be rolling her eyes, "Anyways, everything's in order. See you Monday Rookie!"

"Mam, yes mam!"

A scoff and the call ended.

"Why aren't you there with them?"

"It'd be suspicious if I showed up while my garage door is frozen and my motorcycle is supposedly stuck inside."

"So, Fortress of Solitude?" Dick asked, raising a hand to the comm link not easily discerned beneath his onyx hair.

The billionaire shrugged, his eyes sliding across the snow on the ground and back to his previously claimed spot underneath the bare tree, "What was the edit?"

"It's not important," Dick said offhandedly, a little irritated that the elder man appeared determined to get back to his previous activity of standing by the gravestone.

"Come on Old Man. There ARE a million other places I could be."

"Yet, here you are."

"Yes-I happen to care Bruce."

Silence stretched between them.

"What was the edit?"

Dick sighed again and muttered about really needing to stop the habit, though the alternative of wanting to growl sounded too much like Batman.

"Just fixing my name on my profile."

"What was wrong with it?"

"They spelled my name wrong," Dick said fast and Bruce caught the tail end that it was a lie.

Richard John Grayson wasn't known for being a difficult name to spell. Then again, it was a whole different city, with a whole different crowd of people!

Uncharacteristically, Bruce let it drop. He'd just hack the files later that night and find out what it was.

Once again, Dick went to break the silence between them, aware that they had been standing still for much too long to avoid the chill of the winter season-but he was beat to the punch.

"I could fix your heater."

In response, Dick rolled his eyes, before glaring, "I can fix my own heater Bruce."

Ouch! Were they heading to argument city now of all times?

"Meat's probably thawed out enough already, come on!"

Apparently they weren't going to argue. Dick was smiling again and turning back towards the gateway.

The 's' word still felt forbidden on his tongue, even pre-spoken at this point, so Bruce just muttered, "Thank you…partner."

* * *

It was 2:00am on Christmas Day that Batman hacked the programming at the BHPD from the Batcomputer, safely hidden away in the Batcave. He had just left Dick's apartment half an hour ago, extremely thinly sliced, overly salted and half frozen turkey and ham sandwiches successfully devoured.

Ah ha! There was the code shadow of the name

Richard John Grayson.

He switched to a live code-in to see the present-time screen. What was the edit that couldn't have waited for the weather to improve?

Then he had to pull back the cowl for fear the wires and circuits for the optics in the cowl's lenses were altering his sight.

He then wondered, if was due to his lack of sleep…but no, Leslie had already drugged him into a 12 hour nap just the day before.

* * *

Dick got the call at 5:07am. He was just getting ready to climb into bed when his cell rang from where it was sitting on his nightstand. If it was a normal day, he would've ignored it but after a huge snowed-in drug bust just an hour prior, he and his squad and been given the day off and he was planning to sleep in very late to catch up on his much needed sleep debt. Some local gang had decided they would risk the bad weather for a monetary advantage, so the BHPD had called him in with a few other spread out officers to take care of it. Not that the squad had appreciated going after the gang on foot from their own perspective homes given their vehicles were iced/snowed in.

So, Dick scooped up the phone, pressed connect and flopped down onto his bed.

"Hey! What's up?"

There was only deep breathing on the other end.

OK, and this was the creepy part in the movie where the ominous voice began speaking a warning or ranting about some kind of predestined prophecy.

The deep breathing vanished and Dick breathed his response of, "Hhhheeelllllllllooooo?"

The voice that spoke was quiet but lightly quiet, clearly disguised but not a voice that Dick would associate with any of his close friends, "Richard Wayne?"

Dick smiled, he was still getting used to that.

"That's me. Can I help you?"

Silence took over the line again. Maybe, a friend of a friend of his had given someone new his number? If this was Roy trying to set him up with that girl Tonya again, the archer was so getting one of his own arrows shoved down his throat! In addition to an ecrisma stick or two!

Again, Dick breathed out a long, "Hhhhheeelllllllloooo?"

"Hello Dick."

Bruce didn't disguise his voice this time. CRAP! This could only mean trouble.

"Hey Bruce," he spoke softly, unsure.

Given, Bruce's voice wasn't much steadier, "We should …talk?"

Dick smiled minutely; he knew it wouldn't have been long, "I've got tom- well…today off."

"Lunch at 'La Vallee Blanche,' three o' clock?"

"Sure…see ya there Old Man…"

Neither hung up.

"…"

"Good night…Dad."

Could he even say it?

Bruce spoke fast, "Goodnightson."

And then he hung up, FAST. On the other end of the line though, Dick just chuckled.

"I love you too Dad. Merry Christmas Old Man."

Unfortunately, their lunch meeting was later ruined by an alien invasion!

The End


End file.
